Ecallaw was moving in a slow, deliberate line south down the road, looking for more wagon tracks or the scent of his mate when it happened.
It had only been a little over a day, but the King was frustrated with the lack of progress. He had barely stopped to eat, had barely slept. There were only brief and faint glimpses of the scent here and there, getting fainter as each hour passed. It made Lyria hard to track, and warranted the slow and careful pace. Though Wallace knew this, he was still eager to press on and unwilling to take any breaks.
Brief, so quick that it was over the moment he felt it, there she was. Airyl, the tiniest of flashes, their mate bond still undeniably strong and her presence undeniably alive and even well.
The shock of it overcame him, and he fell over, shifting
